Angel of Death
by AngelofDarkness455
Summary: Angel, or Subject 192, has know only one thing: Kill. After a long time of killing, he decides to escape. Follow him as he retells his story of his escape and his war with the superpower, SystemCorps. Warning: Those with weak stomachs should not read this at all. Contains a a lot of blood and gore.
1. Meet the Angel of Death

**Hey guys, it's Angel.**

**Welcome to my new story. It is pretty gruesome and I wonder how I will ever get this done with the content I put into this story. This first part isn't gruesome, it's just talking about the main character and his crappy life. **

**ON WITH THE STORY!**

**P.S: The main character is my "cousin." ;)**

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Angel of Death

Kill. That's all I've known my entire life. Kill and...uh, kill. I can't die. I've even taken a fucking rocket to the face and still survived. I don't have a life...no real job, no soul...not even a fucking name. So I gave myself a name, "Angel." However, some of the assholes here gave me the title, "Angel of Death" or "Grim Reaper."

I am a genetically engineered soldier, created by SystemCorps. I was created to be cloned and sold to paramilitary groups all over the globe. Experimentation was hell... They poked and prodded me with needles, injecting everything: muscle growth stimulants, behavior suppressors, neuron suppressants. I was trapped in a tiny cell with no windows. There was a camera in the corner constantly watching me. The entire room was laced with electrodes that will put nearly two hundred thousand volts through me. It won't kill me (not even close), but it will put me out for a few hours.

My "job" is to perform the tasks that my creators put in front of me. They observe, document, and modify me based on these observations. It's great... I get shot at for a few hours and then I go back to my cell. Sometimes, I hate my life...

I guess I should talk about my appearance. I am six feet with red hair that falls to my shoulders. I wear a black hoodie with a red cross on the back. It has a quote from the Bible, but I never read it. I wear red and black Jordan Airs. They're not the greatest for combat, but they are comfortable. My eyes are blood red, like my hair. Apparently, I was made to look like this so that I look scary.

Like I said before: I hate my life...

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**And that ladies and gentle men ends Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2.**

**Angel: Hey Readers, It's me Angel.**

**Me: What's up Cuz? ;)**

**Angel: For the last time, I'M NOT YOUR COUSIN!**

**Me: Ok ok chill...**

**Angel: Can I say what I have to say now?**

**Me: No, you can't kill anyone...**

**Angel: I wasn't going to say that... :/**

**Me:...oh**

**Angel: I'm not like that idiot Herobrine**

**Herobrine: HEY!**

**Angel and Me: Go away Herobrine..**

**Me: You died in my first story anyway...**

**Herobrine: I CAN NEVER DIE!**

**Me... You want me to call Ender here?**

**Herobrine: *quietly* No...**

**Me: Get back in your own story then**

**Herobrine: Fine**

**Me: Anyway, What were you going to say Angel?**

**Angel: Nevermind, I forgot it now.**

**Me: :/ Well that sucks.**


	2. And the River of Blood flows

**Hey guys, It's me Angel again (you'll just have to find out which one :3) Hoped you liked the last part.**  
**Warning: Those with weak stomachs should not continue this story. This part begins blood and gore...**  
**This is your second warning...**

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At the start of my eleventh year as SystemCorps's plaything, I decided to escape. I planned and planned for weeks before fate decided to help me. The doctor was sifting through some of the injections I would be receiving. He separated the ones I would get now and began injecting me. However, as I learned later, he mixed the injections wrong and gave me an advantage (as if invulnerability and immortality wasn't enough). When he injected me, the immediate effect was a drastic increased strength and stamina. The second effect was basically an adrenaline shot. I grabbed the doctor by the throat and looked into his eyes.

"Thanks for the check-up doc," I said.

I snapped the poor bastard's neck and dropped him. I felt energized, like I could take on an army with one arm (and I can). I grabbed the M1911 pistol the doctor always carried and looked at the door in front of me. I took my mattress and placed it on the door. I went to the back of my cell and looked at the camera. I flipped the camera off and ran at the mattress. I slammed into it and broke the locks on the door. I removed the mattress and looked at the door. I held the door in the middle and ripped it open. I looked at the hallway in front of me. It was a straight shot to the armory at the other side. Then I heard the alarms and judged my time to get to the armory at seven minutes.


End file.
